


Distance

by CaTigeReptile



Category: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 14:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaTigeReptile/pseuds/CaTigeReptile
Summary: Written for a meme in 2016 where enemies have to work together. Three and a half Seidans all in a line.





	Distance

Hotaru would remain calm as usual, but this was a very emotionally taxing situation to be in – as much as Hotaru had emotions that could be taxed.

Unfortunately, the three people behind him were the three he probably  _felt_  most about, and the feelings were overwhelmingly negative.

The Guardsman walked at a brisk pace set by his height and his stress level, and also to remain in the lead – he was the Commander, he was the one who should be in charge. Seniority didn’t mean anything – most certainly not. That would have meant, technically speaking, that  _Havik_  would have been in charge, and that would end in the destruction of the universe.

Hotaru could hear Darrius’s smooth chuckle at something Havik had said quietly; the white-haired man’s jaw was already clenched, but it shifted as he ground his teeth a little bit.

“Are you all right?” came a voice out of the blue and into his ear. The taller man started, surprised when Dairou spoke; he had not heard him approaching from behind. It wasn’t fear that gripped his gut when he realized he could still fall prey to Dairou’s stealth - it was more resignation than anything; the feeling of defeat.

Hotaru did not turn to regard the man. He didn’t reply, either – not because he was  _trying_  to be cold, but rather because the cold in his throat froze any words that otherwise would have gushed out. And that was exactly as it should have been, sans the secret desire to say anything – that tinge of sadness for a hypocrite was the utmost in hypocrisy.

“Hotaru,” the familiar voice of his old friend chided, making Hotaru clench his fists slowly.

“Why are you,” the younger Seidan managed to murmur before he stopped, teeth gritted, still looking forward.

“We don’t have time for petty grudges–”

“It’s not petty!” Hotaru had raised his voice, bordering on a shout, and had let distress be heard in its normally controlled tone. He immediately (and self-consciously, or pridefully) looked behind at the two others, who were now silent in shock but whose faces (or lack thereof in one case) suddenly grew very pleased for their different reasons - Darrius’s self-righteous mockery did not bother Hotaru as much as the excitement in Havik’s eyes.

The four had stopped in their tracks at Hotaru’s outburst. Hotaru continued to stare at the other two as if daring them to speak. They didn’t, and everyone resumed walking.

“I know,” Dairou admitted in his eternally tired voice. The regret Hotaru heard in his former commander’s tone should not have meant anything to him; regret did not undo crime, or betrayal, or disappointment. Besides, Hotaru knew that Dairou was not sorry. If Dairou were sorry he wouldn’t have escaped during the prison riot. If Dairou were sorry he wouldn’t make a living as a serial killer. If Dairou were sorry he would have died trying to restore his honor—

“—I know, it’s everything to you,” the middle-aged Seidan could read Hotaru so well; no one else could read Hotaru at all. And he spoke in that voice – that  _wise_ one, once reassuring to the Commander, which was now infuriating. Once upon a time, Hotaru thought that Dairou knew everything, but now Hotaru knew better. Dairou had been a plaster saint all along.

 _Don’t patronize me_ , Hotaru wanted to snap, but he was better than that. Anger and hurt were detrimental inefficiencies that did no good, only harm – Dairou was a prime example of letting passion cloud the bigger picture: not in the murder he committed, but in thinking that his punishment was somehow unjust; for not seeing that Darrius had been the one to hire the man who killed his family – or, worse, for knowing and yet still not caring.

Hotaru had to stop thinking about it. He lightly bit his cheeks, nostrils flaring briefly.

The mercenary sighed softly. “There’s a hit out on you. For good money.”

Before the white-eyed guard could even begin to turn his head around, Dairou continued. “It’s not Darrius.”

The soldier opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Dairou continued. “But it’s good money. I thought I’d let you know.”

Hotaru closed his mouth as slowly as it had opened. By the time he looked to the side, Dairou was gone – had already fallen back between him and the two others.


End file.
